


landslide.

by haurratxoria



Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Healing, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Unrequited Love, Why Did I Write This?, i will probably delete this, literally at 6 am without sleeping i am incoherent, not edited, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 06:33:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14731757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haurratxoria/pseuds/haurratxoria
Summary: It’s been years since Mark and Jackson have properly talked, but it’s been only months since Mark has watched Jackson crumble right in front of him. And somehow here he is, trying to piece it all back together again.





	landslide.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to me twisting real life dramatically into broken rags and romanticizing them into a vineyard of word vomit that’s making my mind throw itself into a wall as we speak. I just listened to Landslide by Oh Wonder the whole time while writing this and after finishing this without sleeping my head hurts and I’m not sure what I wrote or if it’s even coherent so have fun reading?
> 
> I will probably delete this eventually because I don't even remember what it's about after writing it oops so like I'm not even sure if the summary is accurate. It's honestly been so long since I've actually completed an idea I feel like at the end I just wanted to churn something out.

It’s a couple months since they’ve last talked when Mark finds himself at Jackson’s door. It’s been over five years since they’ve actually had a proper conversation, since the last one had been like a flood, a rush of everything held back falling through the cracks and washing away everything they had.

Jackson’s house is large, empty, a stand still, separate from his neighbors and quiet echoes through his ears as he stands in front of the door, hesitating before he shakily reaches down to press the doorbell. The ringing sound pierced the air as it sounds thrice, screaming a warning to everyone that he shouldn’t be here. He stares at the few flowers in Jackson’s garden as he taps his foot against the marble doorstep. Some of the leaves are starting to yellow at the edges despite the fact that it was the prime of spring. He knocks at the door after a couple of moments, silence digging into his knuckles when there’s no response. They haven’t really spoken in years, he thinks bitterly, what’s the chance that Jackson will open the door to him now?

A part of him is kind of relieved. He had flown in from L.A for a couple of days so he could talk Jackson just one more time, but all his problems that he had buried seem to become more and more real as he stands at this doorstep. Maybe it’s better this way. He turns around to leave through the huge iron gates, when a big creaking noise echoes from behind him and he turns around to see Jackson standing in the doorway.

Jackson’s long black bangs hang in front of his face, tickling the eye lashes that Mark had used to stare at for hours. His hair is uncombed and he’s in a graphic tee and pajama pants. The shirt and pants hang loosely around his body, the once muscular build faded away. It’s a contrast from the Jackson he’d seen a few months prior, who’d had his hair combed back and stood sullenly in a black suit and tie, eyes staring blankly ahead. But the pieces still laid on the ground, sharp edges lightly pressing into Mark’s skin. His heart twists, stomach churns. The flood that he’d let wash him away before roars in the distance as he traces the curves of Jackson’s eyes, nose, and mouth. He still knew them like the back of his hand. 

“Hi,” Mark blurts out, his voice sounding stiff and estranged. Jackson’s hand remains on the door handle even as he shifts uncomfortably.

“Why are you here?” Jackson grumbles. It has the same rasp it had five years ago, but his voice sounds like an echo down a stone cold hall.

“I- I just came to visit.” They stand there silently for a couple of seconds. And Mark curls his hands into fists, scrambling to find his voice again. “Can I come in? I flew in from L.A a couple days ago and I just thought I’d visit everyone again, you know?”

There’s a moment of hesitation before Jackson finally lets go of the door handle and turns away to walk inside. Mark shuffles inside the house, shutting the door and taking off his shoes.

The shoe rack is decorated with shiny, clean sneakers that could sell for thousands of dollars. Mark reaches to the empty space on the bottom of the rack to place his dirty converse. The shoes along the bottom rack are also dirty, worn down with time. They’re tucked away, but Mark can’t move his eyes away from them.

They’re Jinyoung’s, he knows. Jinyoung has never been as much of a shoe fanatic and he’d always wear his shoes until they were almost falling apart, much to Jackson’s chagrin. The prickling feeling grips the back of his eyes and he tears himself away, following Jackson down the hall that’s decorated with cases and cases of books.

Jackson sits down in the living room and Mark sits himself down on the couch next to him. The two pictures across from the couch glare back at him. The first one is one he knows too well. Jinyoung stares back at him, eye smile and eye wrinkles glowing through the frame and coming to life. He’s in a black cardigan, that blends in with the black frame that traps him in. Mark traces over the curves of Jinyoung’s eye wrinkles over and over again in his mind, his fingers absentmindedly digging into his skin. He hadn’t seen Jinyoung either during these five years and a stream of words he had wanted to say to Jinyoung for the longest time clumps in his throat. He swallows them down, Jinyoung would never be able to hear them anyway.

The second picture is one that he’s never seen before, but makes his throat sting. He finds himself staring into the eyes of his friends. They’re all glowing in the bright sunlight, vibrant colors from the wedding decorations. Jaebum, Youngjae, BamBam and Yugyeom stand around them in white suits, smiling as they glance at Jinyoung and Jackson. 

Jinyoung and Jackson shine the brightest Mark has ever seen them shine. White flowers stick out of their grey suit pockets. Jinyoung has his lips pressed to Jackson’s cheek and the crinkles around his eyes radiate the sheer bliss he felt. And then there’s Jackson, his eyes curling up, the grin spreading from ear to ear across his face and Mark knows that Jackson had never felt happier than in that moment. The guilt sinks into Mark’s chest. He could have stayed by his friends’ sides, watched them in their happiest moment and he let his stupid emotions get the best of him and chose to cut himself off.

Jackson clears his throat and Mark turns to see Jackson looking right at him. Jackson’s biting his lip and the contrast between Jackson then and Jackson now is so clear that Mark’s chest clenches as he stares at the man he’s always loved, shattered into pieces.

 

He’d always loved Jackson to death. He’d had friends in the company before Jackson joined, but there had always been some sort of barrier created by the language difference and his personality. Jackson had been his complete opposite, filling the gaps of awkwardness that Mark created, sticking to his side like glue as they’d grown up through the years. They’d sat next to each other on the second floor of the company building crying as they so desperately tried to hold onto their dream and held each other when they’d finally made it. They’d watched each other fall in and out of love, picking up each other’s pieces and putting them back together again. And somewhere along the line, the line between friendship and love had blurred and Mark had loved Jackson with every single shred of his soul.

He’d watched Jackson fall in love with Jinyoung silently. “Tell him,” his heart had cried, but he’d muffled it and told Jackson to confess. They’d come into the room hand in hand the next day and he tried to be happy for them because he loved both of them so much, but it’d always dug into his heart.

He gets the invitation to the wedding after they’d disbanded for a year and he’d moved back to L.A already. It’d all just come back to him when Jackson’s name had flashed across his phone screen and when Jackson had asked him to be the best man at his wedding, he’d burst into tears and confessed everything he’d held inside his heart. The pity and sorrow seeping through Jackson’s voice as he said “Sorry” had made Mark hang up the phone. He’d missed the happiest moment of his friends’ lives and missed the next five years that he could’ve spent with them. 

He only sees all of them again when tears are streaming down all of their faces and he whispered “I’m sorry” to everyone as they embraced him and held onto him like he hadn’t slipped out of their lives for so many years. The tears stung as he had stared at Jinyoung. Jinyoung had looked calm and still, but the muscles around his face had been relaxed too much and it made him feel sick when Mark realized that he couldn’t couldn’t recognize him as clearly anymore. Everyone had looked away from the casket when the cover was lowered. Jackson had gripped his arms as he collapsed onto Mark’s chest, shaking so hard that Mark had felt so helpless and useless.

He had quietly slipped out of their lives again and returned to L.A after the funeral.

 

“Do you want some drinks or something?” Jackson mumbles. Mark focuses his eyes back on the It’s been months since then and the tears that had been streaming down his face had long dried, but their tracks stayed painted on Jackson’s face. 

“No,” Mark shakes his head. “Why don’t we go hang out for awhile, maybe go on a walk?” The unease glares across Jackson’s face. “Please,” Mark blurts out, “for old time’s sake.” It takes Jackson a second to consider it before he nods and they head out, walking past the shelves and shelves of Jinyoung’s favorite books. 

Jackson walks Mark to the river in silence, Mark trailing steps behind Jackson, the way they’d used to walk comfortably side by side long forgotten. They walk along the river, the cherry blossoms swirling into their faces as they dance to the wind. The back of his neck starts to feel moody with sweat as they walk, heat catching up to him. Mark pulls his grey hoodie off, straightening his t-shirt before stealing another glance at Jackson. The sun hits Jackson’s cheeks, giving them a golden glow that doesn’t reach his eyes. His stubble sits along his jaw. He’s changed a lot from the young, rowdy Jackson who had always been by his side. He’s no longer the kid from five years ago who calls Mark at one in the morning to wander the streets with him or the one who shouts comments that are borderline obnoxious, that make Mark laugh until his sides hurt and he’s grabbing onto the nearest object for support. Jackson’s eyes are trained on the ground and Mark feels his heart twist as he forces himself to stare at the dirtied white of his old Converse.

The air is filled with shrieks of laughter as couples walk arm and arm past them and little kids chase each other along the river. A particularly high squeal hits Mark’s ear drums before a little girl darts in front of him and Mark has to grab Jackson’s shirt before he slams into her. Her mother rushes to the girl, screaming “Watch where you’re going” into Jackson’s face, before dragging her away. They’ve already walked away, before Jackson mumbled a soft apology, hands curling into fists at the end of his shirt. His feet are glued to the ground and Mark gently pulls Jackson along.

Mark fans himself from the humidity as he glances at Jackson again. He bites his lip, glancing overhead at the flock of pigeons that had raced past them. “There sure are a lot of them,” Mark nervously chuckles. Jackson doesn’t say anything and Mark curls his toes inside his shoes. 

“Oh, look, the little kid has cotton candy. I kind of want some,” Mark says, but Jackson barely glances up before he stares back at the ground again. Mark bites his tongue. Jackson had always so easily filled the gaps of silence and comforted him and yet no matter how he scrambles for something to say, he can’t seem to do the same.

They continue walking for awhile, before Mark realizes Jackson has stopped in his tracks, and he turns around to see Jackson with his hands shoved in his pockets, staring straight at him. “Hey, let’s just go back,” Jackson states in the loudest voice he’s spoken in the whole day. “It’s clear that this isn’t going how you wanted it to go and I’m not particularly in the mood for this anyways.”

Desperation and frustration fills him and his voice flares up so loud that he can see people turning to watch them, but he doesn’t care. “So that you can go back and do what? Hole up in your house for a couple more months?”

Jackson glares at him in a bone chilling way that almost sends a shiver down his spine. “I do not-“

“Don’t even try that with me. Everyone texted me again and told me. They tried to talk to you, but you don’t even let them talk to you about it. You don’t really go out to hang out with them anymore, you only go outside when you need to, and you seem to be getting thinner,” Mark yells. 

The wind picks up and Mark holds the hoodie closet to his chest. Jackson wraps his arms around himself, voice volumes softer. “Am I not allowed to grieve? I lost the person who I love the most, the person who means the world to me.”

“It’s been months, Jackson. You’re just hurting yourself more.”

Jackson slouches, the words he whispers full of frustration and anger. “Just let me be. Why do you even care?”

“I’ve always cared about you. I just can’t let you be like this,” Mark’s voice cracks, “I love you too much to let you fall apart.” His fingers clam up when those words escape his mouth. He wishes he hadn’t mentioned that again, praying that Jackson won’t comment on it. His nerves choke him as Jackson’s eyes stay trained on him. It’s been so long and he used to be able to read Jackson like an open book, but he’s not quite sure what Jackson’s thinking anymore.

Jackson’s eyes flash up almost filled with alarm and Mark feels like he’s going to say something about it, but he looks away. Jackson runs his hand through his hair, brushing the bangs in front of his face. “I just can’t. It was all my fault. He was just so busy with trying to compose new songs for the company that I didn’t push him to go to the doctor to get his yearly checkup and if he had we could’ve found out that he had an aortic aneurysm before his aorta ruptured and I-“ Mark glances at Jackson and a glint of tears brimming his eyes threaten to spill out. He grabs the sleeve of his hoodie and wipes them away. His heart feels like it’s being wrenched out in pain, watching the one person who had been his rock fall apart right in front of him. 

“No one could have known that this would happen if he didn’t go. You always put so much pressure on yourself and try to take the blame for everything, but it’s not your fault.”

“But it is! I know how important health is and if I had just pushed him…” And once again Jackson is quivering as tears drip down his face and Mark doesn’t know what he can do except for pulling Jackson closer and holding him tight. He threads one hand through Jackson’s hair, the hair he’d used to run his fingers through everyday and rubs Jackson’s back.

“No, it’s not. It’s not, Jackson. It’s not,” Mark repeats in a hushed whisper. He’s helpless when it comes to trying to heal the man in his arms, the whispers less of a reassurance and more of a plea for Jackson to not question anything and just believe him.

It’s minutes before Jackson stops shaking, his breath slowing down and evening out, and the only taste that reaches Mark’s mouth is bittersweet because even after all these years, Jackson seems to be able to find comfort in him and believe the words that come out of his mouth. He can feel Jackson’s hands curl tighter into the back of his shirt.

“I just miss him,” Jackson mutters. And it’s something about those words that uncovers the wounds from that quirky laugh and sarcastic personality that Mark had bandaged for months as the back of his eyes start to burn again and he mumbles “I miss Jinyoung, too.”

“We’ll meet him again someday,” Mark insists, voice hoarse, and he can feel Jackson hesitantly hum in agreement against his shoulder.

 

They end up walking along the river in silence until the sky is tinted orange. It’s silence, but it’s not the kind that Mark struggles to fill, but the kind that they had shared back then, that whispers “Everything will be okay.” Mark doesn’t try to say anything, afraid that this peace of heart he had internally struggled so hard to obtain will shatter instantly at a single sound.

In the end, it always goes back to Jackson to fill the gaps. Jackson’s no longer frowning, the slight curl of his lips a reminder of how Mark had always thought Jackson’s smile was brighter than the sun. “What do you say we go get some ice cream? For old time’s sake?” It’s a tempting offer as he stares at Jackson, the orange glow as the sun sets making his stubble less visible and putting a tiny light in Jackson’s eyes.

“I can’t,” Mark says apologetically, “I have to leave now and get ready for my flight back to L.A tonight. I have to make it back in time for work.” He regrets it almost instantly when he sees the way Jackson’s mood dips a little bit. Part of him wants to take those words back, but he’s no longer the idol Mark and he has a life that he can’t let fall to the gutter.

Jackson nods in acceptance, kicking a pebble along the ground. “I’ve missed having you around.”

“Sorry.” The word encompasses his apology for confessing when it was too late, for not being able to fully be happy for them, for missing their wedding and not really talking to any of them, for leaving them so quickly after the funeral and all the swirling emotions they probably felt when they thought of him.

“It’s fine,” Jackson says. They stare at each other for a moment, Mark swallowing as Jackson opened his mouth to speak. “Well, I guess, maybe I’ll see you again someday?”

His throat is dry as he nods. “Yeah.” Jackson turns around to leave and before he can stop himself, he grabs Jackson’s hand. “Hey, you know my twitter and IG. Message me?” 

Then it’s a small, but genuine smile. “You got it.” 

The cherry blossoms still dance in the wind as Jackson walks away.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave an honest comment because I don't know what I just did so I'm expecting brutality. Normally I would say check out my other fics that I wrote when I was actually functional, but that stuffs already a year old and I'm questioning the quality of my writing from then, even though it's highkey not that much different from now -_-
> 
> Also if you got a tour ticket I am jealous >:( but have a blast people XD
> 
> Thanks for putting up with this(this might vanish into the dark abyss of deleted fics anyways). I'll try to actually finish the good fics I have in progress.


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